When I Leave
by KatherineChristiansen
Summary: A verbal montage of Grissom's last day


_Disclaimer: The characters of CSI are neither my creation nor my property._  
  
  
"When I leave CSI, there won't be any cake in the break room. I'll just be gone."  
-- Gil Grissom, "Ellie"  
  
  
The entire night shift gathered in the break room. Catherine had insisted that the party transpire a half-hour before shift started so an emergency call couldn't interrupt. The entire idea had been Catherine's. Gil Grissom was a dear friend, and she wouldn't allow him to retire without a gathering.

Grissom entered the break room fifteen minutes before graveyard shift officially began. He was shocked to see a dozen of his coworkers awaiting his arrival. Catherine laid the cake on the table, and, sensing Grissom's shock, sliced through the fluffy white cake and sugary icing herself.

The guests approached Grissom individually to wish him luck and thank him. The lab technicians and a few dayshift workers spoke first. David conversed with his usual nervousness, nearly calling Grissom "Sir" out of habit. Greg presented Grissom with a burned CD labeled "Greg's Insane DNA Mix" in black Sharpie. Nick and Warrick shook Grissom's hand, both remembering the fatherly counsel they had received from the older man. Jim Brass reserved a typical one-liner: "I guess I can apply for lead CSI again, huh?" Sara waited until most of the party had already talked to Grissom. Still unsure of the proper words, she simply embraced him. Having finished cutting the cake, Catherine walked toward her friend. "We'll all miss you, Gil," she stated outright and kissed his cheek.

Grissom nodded. His eyes swept the room from left to right, observing each of the guests and remembering their exact positions. This was a habit he knew he could never break. Greg and David were discussing their favorite types of music; Greg was playing air guitar. Sara sat poking with a white plastic fork at her uneaten cake as she read a case file lying open on the table. Catherine and Jacqui made small talk as Catherine began to clean the mess. Brass sat at the table, feigning interest in a forensics journal Sara had brought him. Warrick and Nick tossed a football cautiously across the back of the room. Archie described to Bobby a new Star Trek role-playing game. Doc Robbins poured a cup of sludgy coffee from the pot near the sink. Memorizing their faces, he turned and left the room.

Grissom strolled to his office, which now appeared cold and empty. He sat at his desk for a few moments, staring at the vacant shelves accented with blue lighting. A few days ago, the room had been filled with insects, spiders and the other jarred specimens comprising Grissom's collection. The specimens had since been moved to Grissom's home. Grissom's pet tarantula and its cage were the only personal items remaining on the expanse of shelving.

* * *

In the break room, the party was dwindling. The dayshift workers had left for home. Most of the lab technicians had returned to their respective laboratories to begin the night's work. Brass and Doc Robbins sat at one side of the table, drinking another of many cups of coffee. Greg stood near the television set, watching the news and absentmindedly playing with a yo-yo, the newest of his hobbies. Catherine sat on the sofa, finally enjoying a piece of Grissom's cake now that she had fulfilled her role as hostess. Nick and Warrick argued about which quarterback each should choose for his fantasy football team. Sara had abandoned her uneaten cake and was dedicating her full attention to the case file.

* * *

Grissom removed the tarantula from his cage and let it walk across his hands. The light pressure of its steps was soothing. Looking through the doorway, Grissom noticed that Billy Bass still hung above the doorway.

* * *

Brass's cell phone rang and an officer informed him that his suspect had been apprehended. Nick and Warrick rose and headed to the labs in hopes of avoiding the looming paperwork due at the end of shift. Greg had left a few minutes earlier; loud punk rock music could be heard echoing through the hallway. Sara threw her cake in the garbage and walked toward the layout room, still reading the file. Doc Robbins returned to the morgue to begin the night's first autopsy. Catherine placed the rest of the cake in the refrigerator and headed in the direction of the other CSIs.

* * *

Someone had bought Billy Bass for Grissom one Christmas and he had displayed it as a joke. The batteries had died months ago, but he never seemed to remember to replace them. Honestly, most of his coworkers were glad to not be started by the singing fish each time they entered Grissom's office. Grissom placed the tarantula in its cage. Dragging a chair to the doorway, he climbed onto it and removed Billy Bass. He replaced the chair and reseated himself behind his desk. Opening the fish's battery compartment, he confirmed his longstanding suspicion: someone had removed Billy Bass's batteries. Grissom let out a low chuckle.

* * *

In the morgue, Doc Robbins had already completed the Y-incision. He dictated his observations into a suspended microphone as he examined the corpse's organs. To his left, David cleaned a second corpse from toe to head. The water spraying from the hose created tranquil background noise in the stainless steel morgue.

Jim Brass's suspect had arrived. The police captain leaned on the interrogation room table, waiting. He crossed his arms across his chest, mentally rehearsing his questions. Brass glanced at his reflection in the one-way mirror. His short hair and brown suit appeared orderly. The door handle turned and Brass trained his gaze on a handcuffed man led by a uniformed police officer.

* * *

Grissom placed Billy Bass in the top of a cardboard box of files sitting in the center of his desk. His notebook computer and a jar of nearly forgotten chocolate covered grasshoppers from the refrigerator sat in the bottom of the box. Grissom rose from his desk for the last time and picked up the cardboard box and his tarantula cage.

* * *

Jacqui sat at her computer desk. She wore her white lab coat over her work clothes. Pulling a magnifying glass from a desk drawer, she compared a computer result with the fingerprint from evidence while the computer searched for a match in AFIS to a second print. The computer beeped steadily as it ran through a series of known prints.

Bobby D. put on a pair of safety goggles and ear protectors. He squared his body to the firing tank and pulled the trigger of a .45 caliber gun entered into evidence. The shot resonated through the ballistics lab as the bullet entered the tank of water.

* * *

Grissom glanced at the bulletin board to his left. "The ones that got away," he muttered, stepping closer. A half dozen index cards still hung from metal pushpins.

* * *

Archie sat before a wall of computer and television screens. Pausing a surveillance video, he enlarged the license plate of a car and began to sharpen the image. His fingers moved quickly across the keyboard and his eyes shone as the digits of the license plate came into focus.

Greg Sanders mouthed the words to the music pouring from his stereo. His spiky hair bounced slightly as he shook his head to the beat of the music. On his forehead, he wore a surgical mask with a red eyeball drawn on it. The mask's elastic band held two eyedropper antennae above his ears. Greg held a third eyedropper in his hand, which he used to collect a sample from a beaker.

* * *

Never a man for loquacious speeches or long goodbyes, Grissom glanced around the office and closed the door.

* * *

Warrick Brown shone a flashlight into the passenger seat of a 1996 Volkswagen Beatle. He was working alone in the police station's garage. Seeing no evidence, he moved the flashlight across the seats. The flashlight illuminated a beam of floating dust particles.

In the trace lab, Nick Stokes shined the ASL onto a victim's sweatshirt. He held the device in a gloved hand while his other hand moved over the clothing. Noticing a fiber, he plucked it from the sweatshirt with a pair of tweezers and bagged it.

* * *

Although the labs were all occupied, the corridor remained empty. Carrying the box under his left arm and the cage in his right hand, Grissom ambled through the hallway. He looked through the glass walls to observe the CSIs and lab technicians at work. Each was concentrating on his or her task, and no one heard the footsteps in the hallway.

* * *

Sara Sidle sat on a stool in the layout room. Crime photos covered the light box on the back wall, and police reports and test results lay on the table. Sara's hands moved gradually through the pages as she hoped to find a piece of overlooked evidence.

Catherine Willows removed a large knife from an evidence bag. She laid the knife inside the glass container near a pan of glue. She placed the lid on the container and turned a dial. Glue fumes floated slowly from the tin pan, fogging the view of the knife.

* * *

Grissom leaned his body into the door and it swung open to reveal the early morning. He paused in the doorway. The blue light from the labs and the golden light from the sunrise mingled, and the golden rays extended into the hallway. Gil Grissom stepped into the golden morning.


End file.
